Last night, I accidentally went overboard and started baking in an effort to forget what an absolutely crap day (to me) it really was. I mean, I baked enough for the Duggar family, or a really four PMS’ing 30’somethings. There will most likely be a unique post about what I’m going to do with the baked goods, but right now I want to talk about my dreams last night.
If anything, my dreams proved that I have a.) read too many romance novels b.) shouldn’t have drank a hard cider before i went to bed c.) have an unhealthy relationship with change.
It is important to note that I went to bed at 12:38am. I was obsessing over something and I couldn’t settle my brain. I grabbed a cider around 12am in the hopes that the alcohol would slow my brain down enough that I could catch a few zzzz’s. I started typing this at 5:38am.
First dream, I was somehow a captive in the 1940’s occupied Europe (individual country not identified) and the nazis were as scary as they were in Sound of Music. I managed to win favor with the female dictators by baking for them. Seriously. I wish I could make this shit up. I woke up, looked at Weezie and said “that was like a Danielle Steele novel meets Martha Stewart.”
The second dream, this was the weirdest/toughest one. I had bought a two story mid century home. I was sitting on the steps of the house, next to a male friend, and we discussed all of the things that I wanted to do to the house. This was clearly a nightmare because I was willingly using words like baseboards, gutters, wall paper and kitchen remodel. What was also interesting to note, that the house was a variation of my mothers, but super sized. Also, as I was sitting on the steps of this house, all of the people in the world were passing through the house, including my mother, an old boss from the early ’00s and an old priest. Woke up again, and moved to the guest bedroom. Thought perhaps a change in locale would stop my brain from running. Didn’t work.
Third dream was just jacked. I bought a new car that had a washing machine in the trunk. (Logical, right?). As I was driving to the new/old house that was swarming with contractors and neighbors pointing out all of the things I was doing wrong, I hit a pot hole. When I hit the pothole, the washing machine flew out of the back of my car, and hit my nameless/faceless dude friend in the gut.
Analyze that why don’t you?
It’s actually not that hard… I feel like I’m living in a damn war zone of life right now. The house, well, I know what that represents, and I’ll deal with that in therapy later. The idea of undertaking a remodel on an old 50’s house somewhere else has been on my brain for a while, and clearly my brain wanted me to remember. The nameless/faceless? It doesn’t take Freud to figure out that one.
Normally I don’t dream. I take a Lunesta, say “good night moon” and get a few hard hours of sleep.
Last night, I thought, after running around all day, I would be able to sleep. I was oh, so very wrong.
Today is a new day, not filled with Nazis, remodels and/or washing machine cars. I lack the nameless/faceless and instead am just going to go try to drum up a little bit of business.
I loaded up on decongestants, anti-histimines and ibuprofen. I will try to wash out the pink out of my hair, that in a fit of crazy, I put in, forgetting that I would be seeing clients. I will try to find clothes that make sense on yet another 90 degree day in this world.
Whether I like it or not, it’s a new day, and I need to get out of bed and go be productive.
Now… to bring back relevance to the title of this post. I have however, had the following song in my head for a day or so. If nothing, embrace the 80’s awesome hair.